Shut up and kiss me
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: "Will you?" He whispers and she turns, her arms rising up fast as she buries herself in him, kissing him hard and growling "Yes" so loudly the people behind them start to chatter animatedly. A set of interconnecting one shots based in the not so distant Caskett future.
1. Surprise

**A/N:** Nothing you read here will contain spoilers for anything other than aired episodes.

To Indie, for giving me the prompt, thank you lovely, for your patience, belief and help these last few weeks.

Thank you for reading.

**Disclamier** : (cos I haven't for a while) : I adore, beyond words, the show. I have nothing whatsoever to do with it.

* * *

_"You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."_

* * *

**Early September 2014**

* * *

When she arrives, in the back of a cab that circles slowly, the sun is streaming through the trees, dapples of green reflecting here and there, everywhere around her bathed in the almost silent beauty of the tail end of summer.

There are orange and gold flecks in among the green, twisted up with the browns of bark and twig - the first signs of fall approaching - but not enough that it looks anything other than a warm summer day. And she should be able to enjoy it, but her stomach is in knots.

Kate takes another breath to steady herself, the two before doing nothing at all to calm her racing heart, and she watches the view dart past the window. It doesn't help - this deep breathing she's got going - doesn't soothe or calm her as it should, but she tries again, and again, and though she holds her breath a few seconds longer than she should, it in no way slows her heart's erratic beat.

He asked her to meet him here, of all places, and though Kate tries not to panic, tries to remember the last time they stood here together, the last time they were happy here, she finds herself fidgeting and on edge.

Her eyes dart over the grass before her, the rise and fall of terrain so familiar and though she scans the area with finesse born of years of practice and on the job tactics, right now she doesn't feel like Beckett - kick ass detective - she's just Kate, heart open, lip worrying, fiancee of the sweetest, kindest man.

She knows if she could spot him she'd feel better.

There is no reason to worry or fret, not really, but they have had one hell of a year and it's hard to be apart from him - to be out of the loop. But he asked her to come and she came, of course she came. With the card in her hand, clenched tight between her fingers and a scowl across her forehead leaving her eyes feeling tight and pinched with the strain of it all, Kate holds the paper, turning it over and over again in her unrelenting grip.

The envelope is lilac, she smiles, touches at the soft swirl font of her name and turns it over once more. The paper inside thin, white and delicate, and seeing it sends a pang of something equal parts painful and beautiful through her chest.

The note is simple, bearing only a place name, time and date in Castle's handwriting, so clear and precise that she takes comfort in each word as she traces them one by one with the tip of her finger.

Two words as instruction are written at the bottom and her hands shake a little each time she reaches them.

**Meet me? **

She sighs a long shaking breath and touches at the question mark that lingers at the end of those two words. Because he _knows_ her and loves her, wants _her_ and he'll wait if she needs him to, all she has to do it say when, say yes.

All she ever had to do was say _yes_.

So of course, of course she'll meet him.

With her heart in her mouth and her fingers white with anticipation. Of course she'll meet him. And suddenly, as if the ride itself has come as a surprise, she's here, there, where she's _supposed_ to be, as asked, and the cab rolls to a stop, engine still running for a quick getaway. But when Kate leans forward to pay, she startles back as the door opens at her side revealing the very man who requested her presence.

He makes her jump - and laughs at the shocked look she knows breaks across her face - and her hand flutters to her heart in shock, the delicate card she clung to so tightly suddenly forgotten on the seat next to her. A shaft of sunlight streams in through the open door and blinds her for a moment, her hand flying up to shield her face and Kate leans away from the open door.

Slowly, and through rapidly fluttering lashes, the black white blur of summer sun begins to clear and when her eyes finally adjust she takes him in - Castle - standing there with his hand extended for her and ... _oh!_

Her heart starts to beat a little faster.

No, scratch that, it _pounds_, it pounds harder and louder and harder still when Castle ducks down so she can see his face, with bright shining eyes and happy smile, and he waggles his fingers demanding that she take his hand.

"Katherine Beckett," he smiles softly, and oh, just his voice alone tells her everything, "I know we tried this once before -" Oh god, she's going to cry and her feet feel like lead and he's wearing a charcoal grey suit with the top buttons of his crisp white shirt popped open the way she likes.

She loves to slip her fingers in against the warmth of his chest, feel the beat of his heart under her touch - the beat almost her own as it permeates her skin - and he knows. The soft and teasing twinkle in his eyes tells her over and over again he _knows _how much she loves it.

Her hand shakes as it slides against the gentle but insistent press of his palm, their fingers twine and his thumb sweeps the back of her knuckles sending waves of reassurance through her immediately.

The breeze seems to call her out, beckon her from the car and when it takes a second too long for nature's enticement to lure her free, Castle clasps both of her hands in his and pulls her up from the back of the cab.

The sunlight is intense and blinding, making her eyes flare wide and then close rapidly as Kate gasps and for a brief moment - before the golden rays force her into self imposed darkness - Kate catches a white flutter behind him.

Her fingers tighten in his and Castle whispers at her to breathe.

She can still hear the murmur of voices floating around them like foam on an ocean spray, that sweet sound of family, so familiar.

His fingers touch her face and she opens her eyes. They're almost nose to nose, Castle's gaze flitting over her face with more warmth than the sun that streams down over them and a loud, shocked noise - half caught in her throat half expelled in the grip of her fingers when they land on his chest - escapes her mouth.

It's all written there in the lines of his face, his intentions clear and honest, his love a light that shines from within, casting away the shadow of fear and doubt. Kate finds she can't release the strangle hold she has on his collar when he starts to speak. She knows his words are about to floor her once again, take her knees out from under her, and she needs something to hold on to.

Him, she needs him.

His voice is low and his words sound steady, relaxed, confident. He's as sure of her and this and whatever it is he has planned as he has ever been of anything. He's serious in the quiet way that breaks her apart with its single focused intensity. He commands the world to be quiet all around her with just the whisper of her name.

"Kate -" Castle brushes his knuckles across her cheek, curls a strand of hair behind her ear and brings her closer, " - We tried this once before and it was a _disaster_."

Tears fill her eyes then as the memories of May come at her, hard and fast. But it's not the rush of panic that she swallows down, not remembrance for how what should have been a perfect, sweet, love filled, romantic day turned against them that steals her breath. It's knowledge of why she's here now and what's about to happen that stuns her into a blurry eyed silence.

God, she loves him with so much of herself that if she could give it all over to him right now, all the pieces that make up how and why and exactly how much she loves him, she's not sure there would be anything left.

"But we came through it." Castle promises, swears, reminds her all at once.

She nods, she can do nothing else, tipping into his hand when he wipes away a stray tear, eyes glistening as they watch each other. They wear matching smiles, loving and sweet and he touches at her lips when Kate's start to quiver.

"Stronger."

God, yes, they are stronger for it, for everything they have had to endure. The worry and the fear, the nightmares that came after. They are stronger. Unbreakable.

"Closer."

Yes, yes, she nods, he's right, she couldn't have survived these last few months with anyone else. Kate squeezes him tighter, not afraid he'll disappear but claiming a little, reminding both that as much as she's his, he's hers too. And yes, there is worry as the memories return, but they are fleeting, nothing in face of what they have.

Castle makes everything better.

He _always_ has.

"Together."

"Yes." Kate croaks, both weak and fierce and holding onto him like she will never let go. Because she won't. It's that simple.

"So, Katherine -" he hums at her ear " - Houghton -" his lips light and warm over her cheek " - Beckett -" their smiles meet, even if hers is a little watery, " - will you marry me right here and now? Outside in the park, straightforward and easy, with just the people we love most in the world - staring creepily?"

He turns her slowly, his arm a secure and grounding loop around her waist, his chin dipping down to rest on her shoulder as she surveys the scene beyond. A little group of ten or so gather before them, watching, not a single one of them ashamed to be they do stare, creepily and not so creepily, with bright knowing eyes and mischievous, conspiratorial smiles. With nods and waves and tippy-toed excitement they each let Kate know in their own ways that they were in on the plan.

Her whole family working together.

They let her know that they remember too and _this time_ it will all be okay.

The swings - their swings - creak idly in the wind, the chains on two of them strung through with flowers and she catches sight of petals fluttering as the seats move with the breeze. And slowly, oh so slowly she realizes that everyone is waiting on her.

Her writer, again - and probably always - waiting on her!

"I'm wearing jeans." Kate croaks, ridiculous and shocked and for whatever reason - whatever reason that makes her the luckiest woman in the world - Castle laughs and holds her a little tighter.

His laughter ripples out through their congregation and he plays up to it, squeezing her tight, "Can you never just say 'yes'?"

He grins at her side, his arms wrapping around her and holding her to his chest, the press of his grin into the side of her neck tickling so that she squirms and Castle nudges her attention towards the waiting masses.

She croaks and groans and when she still finds herself lost for words he sighs, rolls his hand over her hip to touch at the denim and hums quietly, "Then they'll have a great view watching you walk down the aisle." He laughs again, a teasing caress making her jump in his arms and her father clear his throat and _oh, really?_ that makes Castle look a little sheepish.

His eyes drop to hers and suddenly she can see that he's nervous and _really Castle?_ as if she's saying no!

He holds her and wraps her up in the warmth of his body until she shivers and tilts into him. Castle moans under his breath, a delighted, sexy sound just for her and her heart thunders in response.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

She doesn't know how he does that, how he goes from sweet and silly, to cute, to sexy, loving, kind and downright delicious, all in mere seconds but she hopes he never stops. Hopes that they will always be _this_ to each other.

Kate stares at him, her eyes roaming and her heart swelling with want and pride and she focuses in on his lips, presses her own together wishing they were his she could feel. A throat clears again - maybe not her dad his time, maybe _his_ mother and _okay, okay_, they're as bad as each other - and her eyes fly up, a laugh spilling out and the blush to her cheeks chasing her lids as they flutter skyward.

"Will you?" He whispers and she turns, her arms rising up fast as she buries herself in him, kissing him hard and growling "Yes" so loudly the people behind them start to chatter animatedly.

Their excitement is catching and she deepens the kiss, nips at his mouth for his teasing and strokes over his lips gently in greeting. He lifts her off of her feet and sets her back down with a bump, their foreheads tipping into each other and snuffles of laughter shared between them.

Castle's breath scatters out across her cheek, his lips warm and wet as they softly meander over her skin and he hums, sounding delighted with himself as he does. He kisses her, again, once more, light and barely there in the summer sun, breathing the word against her lips.

"Surprise!"


	2. French

_"Kiss me like you wanna be loved."_

* * *

**April 1st 2015**

* * *

He's driving her crazy and they've only been awake for twenty minutes. Kate lets him loop around her like an excited puppy, trying desperately not to roll her eyes when he trips and stumbles in front of her.

"But it's my _birthday_." Castle whines, darting around again, waving his arms at Kate as she fills her coffee cup with water from the faucet.

"And I hope it's a happy one." She smiles sweetly over the rim of her cup, "But I'm still not doing it."

"You'd look so hot"

"How is _that_ an incentive?"

"It works for me."

She quirks an eyebrow at him, the narrowed field of her vision full of threat and violence and Castle starts to backtrack fast.

"Not that you don't _always_ look hot, like right now, with your hair all wonky and my shirt on? Gorgeous! And when you wear those jeans or the leather pants with the thing and you, just _you_, beautiful but -"

"Castle!" Kate exclaimed, breaking his flow before he could get in the full swing of _uho, my wife might be pissed at me _and completely sidetrack her, "Get it through that thick head of yours, I am not dressing up as a French maid. I don't care how old you are. It's. Not. Happening."

"Getting old sucks." With a grumpy pout Castle flops down at the table, exaggerating a wince in his back, sighing heavily in her direction, looking for sympathy.

He doesn't find it.

She grins, "Babe you're not old, just maturing like -"

"Cheese." He huffs, smooshing his face into the palm of his hand, sulking.

"I was gonna say fine wine, but, sure, we can go with your word." Kate smiles again, swallows thickly and sets down her cup, bracing herself against the countertop.

"You sure you don't want to just try on the little hat?" Castle hedges, his face suddenly alight with mischief and hope. "Hold the duster provocatively for a few minutes?"

"No. I do not." Kate smiles despite herself, pushing away from the counter and taking a deep, steadying breath. "Besides, I don't think it's an appropriate thing to ask the future mother of your child."

"Well, no that's why I was asking ... wait, what?" Castle lifts his head slowly, searching her face, finding her eyes and pushing himself up to walk toward her. "Are you serious?"

She nods, her lips pinched tight as she waits for him to react.

"You're not gonna be evil and yell 'April Fools' the second I get excited are you?"

His eyes narrow, but there is joy there, anticipation.

Kate shakes her head this time, watching the slow progression of his body, legs heavy with shock, surprise, wonder. "No, I wouldn't do that." She says it quietly, pressing the tips of her fingers to her own lips and the smile that betrays her own thoughts on their news.

"You're pregnant?" He asks, stopping just in front of her, his eyes dropping to the flat surface of her stomach as if he hopes to see through her skin and confirm it for himself. "You're really pregnant?"

"Yeah." Kate laughs, "Happy birthday, Castle." She reaches for him and he laughs, beating her to it, wrapping his hands tenderly around her waist and pulling her in close.

He lifts her off her feet, and yes, he must be aging like cheddar because this is quite easily the cheesiest kiss they've ever shared. Possibly the happiest too.

Castle gathers her up and lets her slide down his body slowly. She can feel the change in him already as he shifts around her, gentle, _protective_.

He kisses her, long and slow and full of wonder. A little French too, even though she won't put on the outfit and his fingers drift lazily over skin he will come to know extremely well in the next few months.

They pull apart breathless, exhilarated and laughing, foreheads touching as she giggles, her eyes shining back at him, elated.

"Happy birthday." This time she breathes it slowly and full of love, reminding him and he grins. It _is_ his birthday - one of the best ones yet - and he has to ask.

"You sure you don't wanna just _try on _the apron?"

It's still a no, but at least she kisses him to shut him up.


	3. Open mouth

_"Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips ..." _

* * *

**April 2014**

* * *

"Are we really doing this?" She whispers, as Castle dips her low his eyes dancing and his focus drifting as his head bops along with the music.

"Yup."

"This isn't even _our_ song." Kate grumbles and Castle pulls her upright, shrugging.

"That is not the point, Katherine." Martha berates and Castle snickers when his kick-ass detective suddenly looks sheepish, told off by his mother. Kate waits until Martha turns the other way, poking her tongue out at the retreating woman and jabbing her elbow into Castle's side so he yelps.

"What was that?" Martha asks, turning back to the poised pair with narrowed eyes.

"Dainty light-foot over here stubbed his toe." Kate smiles back sweetly turning her evil eyes on Castle when he opens his mouth to contradict her. He flinches, backs down and the balance restores itself as Kate breathes a sigh of relief.

"The wedding is fast approaching, children, and people will want a show." She waves her hands with a flourish and Kate smiles - tries to anyway - and lets Martha redirect the conversation. "It's not just about the vows and the first dance. It's about panache and showmanship, it's about wowing your audience -"

"Audience?"

"Congregation - whomever they may be." She waves her hand, dismissing them both and turning to an imaginary crowd of admirers, throwing her arms up wide, "It's about the pageantry."

"I thought it was about declaring your love." Kate points out, smiling at Castle when he turns to flash her with a wide grin.

"That, darling, goes without saying. For you two it's all about love and happily ever after. For the rest of us it's a _long_ day. We want a little excitement." Martha smiles sweetly, pushing them closer together and waving her hand for them to try again. "We want a show!"

She spins on the spot with a flourish only to turn back to the writer and his detective before they expect, catching them in the middle of either poking each other or mocking her. She glares until Kate goes a little pink in the face, biting down on her lip, her eyes dropping. Her son looks neither contrite nor ashamed, but he does look _happy_ and she couldn't really ask for more than that.

"The first kiss as man and wife is -" She waves her hands, gyrates with excitement, "It's the grand finale for the ceremony and it needs to be spectacular."

"Couldn't we just wing it?" Castle shrugs.

"Wing it?" Martha yelps.

"Ach." Kate turns to face him, her hands falling to her hips, "You want to '_wing_' our _first official married people_ kiss? Really?"

Castle jumps, tilting to the left, shocked by her sudden change in opinion, no longer at his side mocking his mother now, Kate is firmly on Team Martha. Scary theatrical kisses and all.

When his mother turns her back on them for a moment Castle points in confusion and raises his hands in a _what the hell, Beckett?_ gesture that makes her smirk.

Kate points and mouths "Mother in law" and shrugs like she has no choice, schooling her face immediately when Martha comes back to them.

His eyes flick back and forth between his mother and his fiancee, confused and sensing safety in neither direction he _wings_ this response too. Castle sidesteps and aims for the nearest chair to rest his aching feet, and both women round on him, their stances scarily similar as they approach him and force him to walk backwards into the couch instead.

"We are not winging our first kiss." Kate growls, "I am only doing this once, Castle." He can see the flicker of amusement in her eyes. There is a lot of bedroom voice in the Beckett making demands of him. Oh, well, _that_ he can get on board with!

"Really Richard, all the years you spent watching me on the stage, where is your sense of the theatric?"

"It ran away." He pouts, getting no sympathy as they proceed as if he has too.

Kate turns to Martha, leaving her intense gaze lingering over him for a few seconds before she begins to plan. Kate claps her hands together loudly, grinning when Castle jumps, "So what were you thinking?"

Martha smiles, "Well the classic dip and tilt would work well depending on how you wear your hair." Martha reaches for a strand and twines it around her finger, laying it over Kate's shoulder and setting her fingers into a square, stepping back and looking at her through an imagined camera lens.

"I haven't decided yet."

"_Kate?_"

"With your cheekbones I can't see any style being a problem." Martha smiles,"Hmm, but the dress might be an issue."

"_Mother?_" Castle tries again.

"How so?"

"_Woman I plan to marry?_"

"Obviously, if he cups your cheeks with both hands we won't see your faces for photographs. But too planned and it will look staged."

"_If you actually need a groom for this whole thing?_" He shrugs to himself.

"Ugh, no." Kate grimaces, oblivious to Castle's startled reaction and unaware of the hand he lays over his heart in relief when he realizes she wasn't talking to him so much as panicking about staged kisses.

"_No, we wouldn't want that would we._" Castle grumbles, mocking her under his breath. He'd do it louder but he doesn't really want to get in trouble, just get her attention and he tries again, this time calling, "_Kate_."

Ignoring him the two women forge ahead. "I think the best scenario would be for the two of you to act out a few kisses and we can pick which one would work best on the day."

"Mother, Beckett" Castle yells, finally getting their attention, "We got this!"

He steps in, and spins Kate into his arms. With one hand low on her hip, the other settling gently against the long line of her throat, three fingers slipping to trail her hair line without actually parting the strands, his thumb sweeping low on her cheek and just missing her lips. He holds her eyes for a long, slow second before moving in closer.

Her arms rise up and fall to cover the beat of his heart, fingertips curling in his shirt. Her eyes flutter shut when their noses touch and lips skim each other, mouths skating in chaste greeting before Castle moves in and deepens the kiss. He tilts her back the tiniest amount and Kate groans quietly, opening to him, sighing into the kiss and fisting her fingers in his shirt so that he can't pull away.

The lazy, familiar perusal of her mouth leaves Kate pushing up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck and swallowing down his rumble of enjoyment.

They pull apart, breathing hard and Kate laughs, breathless and stained pink with love and happiness. "Told you we got this." Castle grins, twisting himself closer, touching her face.

"Works for me." Kate agrees, tipping herself into his arms, foreheads touching as she brushes her fingers over her still tingling lips. She pushes in close for another kiss, just like that, her blood buzzing with it warmly.

Behind them Martha claps her hands together in excitement and lets loose a bubbling laugh, "Now we got a show."


	4. Neck

"**Our smiles should touch now."**

* * *

**September**** 2014**

* * *

The wind lifts her hair, sends strands cascading about her face in a frantic rush. The lackadaisical breeze flutters around them and douses her in the beautifully intoxicating aroma of summer and the man she loves, Kate smiles, feeling Castle's lips caress the back of her neck.

She's falling into his chest, holding onto his hands as they curve around her waist to pull her as near as possible and she laughs, loud and still awed, turning her smile towards him so he can kiss the edge of it.

He wraps her up and snuffles into the crook of her neck, warm and contented and pleased with himself as they are slowly surrounded by their family and friends. Congratulating them, the people she loves laugh loudly, happy in the moment, happy for her and they swarm around the couple as they stand center stage, clinging to each other.

He's sweet, all soft touches and whispered breath colliding hotly with her skin, Castle, taking his time and making her forget the waiting congregation even as they close in, threatening to tug them apart and get the ball rolling.

Everyone in their lives seems to be in a hurry to get them married.

Though he planned the whole thing, Castle's content at her side, to linger, to hang on a few more seconds, because they've waited this long and yes, yes she wants to run down the aisle and not so much _drag_ him - he's as eager as she is for it to happen - but to hold his hand and (good god, she feels a bit ridiculous even thinking it) _skip_ to the altar!

She won't, and she'll probably only confess her imaginings of the two of them hand in hand, like carefree teens, when they are coiled around each other in darkness, but right now she's wrapped up in his arms and, oh, she could stand just like this forever.

He's relaxed, kind and gentle with the soothing sweep of his hands and warm when her skin prickles with goosebumps of awareness, he chases the chill right out of her body, her blood, her _life_.

Quietly, among a cacophony of excitement, he keeps her close.

Her head tips back with the brush of his fingers under her chin and he kisses her neck again, her jaw, the side of her cheek, lighting fires and sparking lightning and every other analogy she can think of to describe the way he ignites the love between them, the way he drives the happiness out over her flesh.

Laughing, he's almost vibrating at her back, giddy and ready, so ready for whatever it is that he has planned and she shivers right into his embrace, smiling wide and ignoring the world, even as they touch at the edges of their bubble, threatening not to pop it, but to make it expand, including everyone they know.

It settles over her, laps at her like sizzling water in a hot bath, they're getting married today and he planned the whole thing, and maybe, finally, he's gotten her back for his birthday and now, now they get to have this, an actual beautiful outdoor, simplistic wedding because last time was...

"Stop it." He hums at her ear and she knows he's right, doesn't even question him feeling the change within her as the memories surge. He strokes his fingers over the back of her hands, coils her thumbs protectively within his palms and reminds her with the warmth of his hands that they say so much without saying a word. They speak volumes with each quiet touch.

Kate pushes back and huffs a soft sound of amusement, delight and surrender and happiness all, closing her eyes as he sweeps his mouth over her skin, finding that telltale thudding beat just behind her ear and laving it with his tongue.

She doesn't need to think about why fors and what-ifs when she has _this_.

_Him_.

When she has Castle and all the ways he loves her, the ways they love each other as an antidote to the pain of the past and a guiding light toward their future. When she has this, everything else fades into nothing.

And oh, he's so very _good_ at distracting her, mouth hot and warm and teasing, that for a few seconds she's almost oblivious to the catcalls and - ugh, Lanie Parish that had to be you - _wolf whistle_ that erupts behind them.

Castle spends an ecstatic and oblivious moment paying homage to the way her heartbeat speeds up because of him, just _for_ him, steadfastly ignoring the rambunctious loons they call family. But a throat clears and he groans along the length of her collarbone, hot vibrations of pleasure like needles darting through her system and his fingers tighten at her waist, not wanting to let her go.

He grumbles, something about honeymoons and _do not disturb_ signs and all over again it hits her.

They're getting married.

Today!


	5. Hand

**A/N:** Still spoiler free, just! Aside from that one thing I saw! Hanging by a thread...

* * *

"**Hand in hand, palm to palm and fingers entwined, **

**a kiss with the soul, not the lips, in my mind."**

* * *

**May 2014**

She should feel ridiculous, but she doesn't. Heavy footsteps echo down the long corridor - fluorescent lights overhead making her squint as she passes underneath them - sighing wearily she trudges on, right now she doesn't feel much of anything.

People stop dead as she wanders by, their eyes wide, mouths agape and she barely feels it, barely registers the attention that falls on her with every step she takes. She doesn't stop to catch their gaze and the pity that comes at her in waves from the gawpers and onlookers rolls easily off her skin, like raindrops in a thunderstorm. She doesn't need it.

Her ears ring a little, yet she doesn't hear the whispers that inevitably follow her presence as she rounds each corner, the sharp inhales when new eyes catch sight of her for the first time, startled by what they see. She doesn't even take a breath to reply when someone asks if she's okay. She's alive isn't she?

_Isn't she?_

Kate holds her head high, blinking steadily, chest tight, feet a little sore and she keeps walking through the winding maze of hospital corridors, ignoring her dress when it snags on chairs or catches in the backswing of a closing door. She doesn't even pause to wipe the hair from her eyes when it falls pitifully across her face, nor the sweat that beads on her brow.

What's the point? She's already a complete mess.

_The dishevelled bride._

That's what she heard one of the nurses call her, whispering to her colleague that it was creepy the way she wandered the halls without changing out of her dress, the way she shuffled aimlessly from room to room. Like a ghost.

She's not wrong, the unknown nurse, but Kate doesn't care, can't bring herself to glare or admonish the heartless woman, and her words are the last that penetrated the fog that has swallowed Kate up since.

It's quieter like this, her attention focused solely on finding her way back to Castle's side, to pressing her forehead to his. To holding his hand. To feeling like she can finally breathe.

She will take it off, of course, the dress that's ragged, torn and stained with blood, she's not insane, but so far she hasn't found the time, hasn't found the energy necessary to worry about herself and how she looks.

The only things that register are a bone weary tiredness, like an iron curtain that descends from head to toe, weight falling heavier on her shaken form with every determined step, and a need to be at the side of the man she loves.

There is a small sheltered place within her that craves nothing more than the sight of him, his smell and touch, his voice soft in her ears. Nothing else matters.

She walks on, an ever present rustle announcing her approach. More than likely the rumpled silk and taffeta, gauze and beading will slide down her body in frustration when the width of the skirt keeps her from moving fast enough through the narrow halls or close enough to the bedsides of the people she watches over. When the time comes she'll swap it out for scrubs or borrowed items.

Her wedding dress, suddenly and starkly an inconvenience.

It's ruined. Great chunks torn from the skirt, sleeves ripped and patterned with dust and rubble, marring the white and silver. Then there's the blood, under her nails and smattered across her skin, dashed across the skirt in a macabre splash of vivid color. Ruined.

Her eyes drop as she stumbles on, her hand flitting to her hair and she tugs a strand back behind her ear as she strides faster, the twisted sections that had been pulled back from her face now hanging in limp and pathetic waves that sweep her shoulders.

The veil is gone.

It belonged to her mom, a last minute surprise from her dad and the familiar scent of Johanna's perfume had risen from the box when Kate opened it. Tears spring into her eyes as she recalls the shake to her fingers, moving in awe as they trip trailed the delicate, paper-thin lace. And now it's gone, lost to the wind or carnage, she can't be sure, and she immediately chastises herself for thinking of something so trivial at a time like this.

There is a chain at her neck holding one ring and another wrapped snug on her finger and so far none of the people she loves are dead. She's _lucky_.

She's alive, they're all alive. She's lucky!

Battered, bruised and god, so tired, counting her blessings, she carries on.

The loss of a veil should be nothing in comparison, and at the next turn she leans heavily against the wall, pulling off the white heels that pinch her toes. Running her thumb over the pearlescent detailing, Kate tosses the shoes aside and ignores the memories that surge when she thinks back to the day she bought them, imagining Castle's hands running down her legs to pull them from her feet on their wedding night.

Too late now, their ceremony long since passed and she touches her hair again, forgetting. The veil's absence weighs heavily, more than it should, a bereavement all its own that presses at the _little girl_ part of her heart. She wanted to keep it, treasure it, maybe one day pass it on to her own daughter and now it's gone.

Somehow that's the thing that gets to her the most. That small realization reminding her that's it not trivial, not at all. It's another part of her day stolen away.

Vision blurry she steps into the elevator and lays her head back against the cool metal as it climbs, the back of her throat burning with the sob she refuses to release. She should be married by now, she should be laughing and joking and getting steadily drunk with his hand in hers and everything perfect.

_It's too much!_

She should be Mrs.

She should be basking in the congratulations of everyone that knows them, in the _I told you so's_ and _we knew it's_ of all the people who wholeheartedly believe they saw it coming before she did.

_She can't breathe._

Kate tugs at her neckline, feels like it's choking her, her heart thundering in its desperation for freedom. Her hands shake as they lift, pressing cold fingers against her suddenly fevered skin as she pulls the neck away from her chest and breathes deep.

_She should be so many things, but she's not!_

It's too tight, her chest barely moving, but she does it again, and again and again until it works. Soft air over her quivering tongue getting her through it, quietly.

She stays calm. Fights the battle from within.

She doesn't claw at her own skin or tear at the seams. Instead Kate smoothes the material flat over her breasts and across her stomach, making herself feel the way it sits over her body, giving herself the time she needs to find balance again.

The doors open once more and she steps out, veiless, shoeless, _the dishevelled bride_, her breathing under control and her heartbeat almost regular and absolutely every ounce of self control she has mustered through the darkened halls falling away instantly at the sight of _him_.

At the end of the long corridor Castle stands, his body angled away from her, a hand running down his face as he breathes hard. Darkness has washed over him, she can see that, her feet dragging her from the confines of the cramped elevator, a magnetized pull guiding her to his side.

Her voice breaks around the lifeline of his name. "Castle" a resonating echo that bounds down the hall, taking her to him faster than her exhausted body will allow.

He turns toward her slowly, body stiff and almost dazed in his appearance, unbelieving. It's only been a few hours that they've been apart but it feels like a _lifetime_.

It takes Castle a few seconds to accept she's real and then the cloud lifts, visible pain dying away at the sight of her and his smile is weak but instant, tender and wide, his obvious sigh of relief quickening her pace.

Kate's heart splinters in beat - loud, obnoxious - regulating the closer they get and Castle closes his eyes, touches a hand to his chest - covering his own heart in unspoken understanding - as he reaches for her. His outstretched fingers the only home she needs.

She stumbles into him and he collides with her and for a long moment in which only they exist they wrap themselves up in each other, arms so tight they might never let go.

Heavy breath crushes their chests together and without knowing she's even been lifted, Castle sets her back on her feet and strokes over her face, claiming her hand immediately, desperate for the contact.

Kate takes it with pleasure, her own desire to be near him only increasing now that she has him in her arms and she squeezes his hand, thick and strong digits stretching the gaps between her own as their fingers intertwine, warmth, like love, suffusing her skin.

One soft tug is all it takes to bring her back to his side.

He holds her in silence for a few seconds longer, taking her breath away as her eyes devour him, comforting herself that he's okay.

His shirt collar is open, tie undone and hanging limply around his neck. He's a little rough around the edges, the groom just as rumpled and drained as the bride, and they should be married by now. He should be cracking jokes and teasing her and breathing dirty, delightful promises into the shell of her ear as they twirl.

They should be sharing their first dance right _now_.

It's all too much and Kate says the only thing she can think of to make it better.

"They're all okay." She breathes in awe, brushing her lips over his knuckles as he lifts his hand to her face, sighing as the angles shift and the tilted world doesn't right itself or become perfect in his presence, it just keeps on spinning, spinning for everyone they love.

It's miraculous.

"How?" He asks, and her fingers curl within his, chest easing as she inhales deeply and lets him draw her into his embrace. His skin is warm and familiar, his hand in hers a tether that keeps her where she should be, where she's supposed to be. By his side. Alive.

She cannot bring herself to let go of his hand.

"I don't know." Kate answers honestly, not sure she cares beyond the fact that they are _all okay_ and her focus becomes the warmth of his fingers between her own, the soft sigh of their palms as they slide together.

Their knotted digits twist together like vines, and he holds her close, his gentle caress telling her he wants to ask how she is and a million other questions that she doesn't have the energy for. Her relief is palpable when he doesn't, glad he takes the hint in the press of her fingers and the slow blink when his eyes drift over her face.

Instead, concerned, Castle tugs her down with him, both of them collapsing wearily into the plastic chairs of yet another hospital waiting room. Her eyes start to close and he startles her when he speaks.

"We will do this again, you know that, right?" Castle squeezes her fingers, waiting until she lifts her head to look at him, truth vivid in his tone and shining eyes, "I will marry you."

Her focus drops to their fingers, to the way he holds her hand, the way he gifts her with strength in the simplest touch and she smiles, her head dropping to rest on his shoulder.

"Kate? Tell me you know that?"

She finds peace in watching the slow stroke of his thumb across her wrist, likes the way their skin feels pressed together, the way they hands fit like puzzle pieces. She's silently in love with the way their palms come together, the way they _kiss_.

There's no doubt in her mind, it's not even a question, and her reply comes, loud in its significance, yet simple, quiet and honest. The words she has wanted to say all day.

"I do, Castle."

She squeezes his fingers.

"I do."


	6. Cheek

**A/N:** If I don't cave ...

* * *

"_**A kiss always means something."**_

* * *

**September 2014 **

The men leave, her son calling out til the last possible second, and Martha finds his bride smiling to herself softly, a warm flush coloring her cheeks as she stands waiting, content to be at the mercy of her _almost_ mother-in-law.

Turning the young woman away from her, Martha's eyes crinkle as she fiddles with Kate's hair, her smile warm and familiar, love and indulgence shining from her almost as brightly as it does from her son.

Her fingers move speedily as she watches Katherine press a hand to her chest, breathing as though she feels that butterfly flutter start up again in her stomach.

Awe? Happiness? Delight? Maybe all three and she shakes her head with a smile at the pair of them, just as bad as each other.

Her son is getting married today and that is amazing, wonderful, about time! And everything a bride should feel is written over the face of the woman he loves, the woman she has come to think of as her daughter.

As she weaves the silken strands of hair behind the detective's head, Martha refuses to think of it as Katherine becoming a part of their family because they've welcomed her in from the moment they met, today is just the long journey's fruition and of course there have been bumps along the way, but _today_ should be the start of a smoother path for the pair of them. God knows they deserve it.

Alexis adds earrings to the bride's ears, as they work around her together, fingers gentle as they work the metal through her lobes and she lifts a strand of Kate's hair, handing it off to Martha to twist up with the rest, smiling widely when she catches the detective's eye.

She's happy for her father, Martha has no doubt about it, happy for the both of them, and they hold the gaze they share for a while, her granddaughter and the woman that has captured her son's heart and, with her fingers working away behind them, Martha can't help but wonder if this is a glimpse at a moment the two of them will share one day in the not so distant future.

Another wedding, another time. Another daughter with a borrowed mother.

She swallows thickly, a shimmer of tears behind her eyes and Martha clears her throat, watching as Alexis jumps, nods and disappears quickly. She feels Katherine stutter in confusion, her body tensing and she smiles as she imagines the young woman's eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Her fingers are warm as they land on the bride's exposed shoulders, Martha's voice picking up with a croak of emotion as she smoothes her hands down Katherine's arms and turns her so they face each other, "Do you remember the very first poker game my son invited you to attend, with Javier and Kevin and your dear Captain Montgomery?"

Kate nods, stilling instantly when Martha clicks and tuts in annoyance, trapping a laugh that spills free and swearing not to move again. Her hair is a delicate stage and Martha's face transforms with finite skill born of her craft as she hammers home her insistence that the bride remain a statue.

"I remember."

"I knew then." Martha states adamantly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and catching her eyes so Katherine can see the truth and understand that what she's saying isn't being said in the moment for the sake of it. That she believes the words she speaks with her whole heart.

Katherine becomes quiet, instantly serious as she asks, "Knew what?"

"That _you_ were the girl for _my_ boy."

Her eyes fly up and wide in surprise and Martha feels the words catch in her throat as she speaks them, lacing every one with honest love, and her fingers drop from Katherine's hair to touch at her cheek.

She swallows hard, stoic as ever, visibly biting back the flood of emotion and Martha can see clearly in the detective's eyes that she wonders how on earth _anyone_ could have known barely a month into their partnership that they would end up together.

Ah, the follies - and self imposed blindness - of youth! If she could travel back in time and knock their heads together, she would.

"I love my son," she says quietly, a surge of pride undeniable as it bombardes her heart, "he's a wonderful man, but god knows he can be trying." Martha smiles wistfully, remembering the dark haired little boy who would run riot for attention, only to curl up quiet and shy in her lap. The adolescent, lonely and desperate for companionship, the too eager to please teenager. "He may have been a self-centered jackass when you met him -"

Kate laughs, thumbs her own eyes to drag away tears as she nods, understanding completely, "I've called him that."

"Still is on occasion." Martha shrugs, not oblivious to her own human failings as a parent, maybe ignoring them a little more than she should, but this is about her son. "But he has a big heart," She smiles proudly, touching the cheek of the woman who claimed it. "A _generous_ heart." Kate nods again, emphatically. "And darling, he loves _you_ with _all_ of it!"

* * *

She chokes a sobbing laugh at his mother's words and fights to blow a shallow breath through her lips, her hands quivering as they come up to lay over Martha's. "I couldn't stand him then." She confesses guiltily.

"Who could?" Martha teases and Kate laughs again, the two of them sharing in the love they have for Castle, for the man he was then, the man he is now.

All of him, theirs.

And again, his family - and hers - fill her up with joy.

* * *

"Hey!"

Both women turn at the admonishing call of his daughter's voice, the mock stern grimace falling away easily as she finds her way back to their sides.

Eavesdropping.

There is no doubt here, from any of them, they share a common bond in their love for the crazy man Kate is about to marry. No worry. Nothing but tender reflection and remembrance.

It's only when Martha calls attention to it that Kate even notices Alexis has her hands behind her back and Martha turns the bride towards her granddaughter, pushing them together.

"We have something for you, Katherine." Martha swallows hard, her palm open and inviting Alexis closer. She watches as her granddaughter breathes out slowly and pulls her hands from behind her back smiling, hopeful, watching for Kate's reaction.

The lost veil flutters lightly in the breeze and the silence between them is broken by a gasp. Katherine's eyes well with tears, her fingers shaking as they reach, only to withdraw suddenly as if afraid to touch the dancing lace. As though she cannot bring herself to believe it's real.

"How?" Is all she can say, emotion choking the word, keeping it tight and still disbelieving.

"Dumb luck?" Martha shrugs, claiming Kate's fingers, soothing and empathetic as she pulls the girl with her. "Act of God?" She smiles, lays the detective's shaking hand over the flutter of her mother's veil, proving to her it's real. "Maybe a little of the _magic_ you share with my son rubbing off on the rest of us." She winks, nodding towards her granddaughter.

She watches the revelation dawn on the detective's face. Shock giving way to elation.

"I can't believe you found it." Kate croaks, ignoring the offered item and instead pulling Alexis into her arms, leaving Martha to rescue the veil and smile as she watches.

"Thank you." She squeezes hard and breathes the words again clutching tight as Alexis blushes. When Kate lets her go reluctantly she turns and reaches for Martha, her surprise and happiness evident in her glowing skin and happy smile. "You too, Martha. Thank you."

"Would it be remiss if I didn't say _always_?" She teases, taking the tight squeeze of the detective's arms around her with a grunt of surprise - she certainly is a strong one. And while she has the young woman in her arms Martha holds her tight and kisses her cheek, gifting her with not only her mother's veil but a mother's love also.

"Something old." She smiles, pushing Katherine away, fixing the veil to her drawn up hair, "It's a little shorter than it was originally and I don't really think you could call it white anymore -"

"It's perfect." Kate interrupts.

"Yes, I do believe given the current ensemble," she casts her eyes downwards to the swathe of dark denim and leather heels, "it does fit rather well. Adds a certain dramatic flare."

"We don't have much time." Alexis hurries her on, tapping her watch.

"Ah, yes time is of the essence." She squeezes Katherine's hand again and sighs, "Well as all good actresses must, it's time for a little improvisation." Martha grins, in her element.

Grabbing Alexis by the shoulders she shoves her in front of the startled bride, "Something new, congratulations my dear, it's a girl."

"Grams!" The girl groans and the bride blushes and Martha watches her cast a protective glance over her soon to be stepdaughter, something in the woman's tender gaze and loving touch telling Martha it won't be long before she has another beautiful grandchild to spoil.

She ignores them both, tapping at Katherine's ears with the tips of her fingers, "Borrowed." She announces, "They were my mother's"

"Oh, Martha - I -"

"No time for that, you're family." Martha smiles as the bride blushes and she reaches into her pocket for the last item, pulling it free. "And finally, something blue."

* * *

Martha produces it with a flourish not dissimilar to that of a magician, a playing card, blue-backed and familiar, not from Castle's collection but Kate's own, a precinct deck he insisted on buying for her very early on in their partnership. Back when Kate would rather have kicked him than kissed him.

She turns it over slowly in her hand and chokes on another laugh as she sees the face, The Queen of Hearts, his mother ever the dramatic actress feigning indifference at her reaction, but clapping her hands together in delight when Kate shakes her head and covers her mouth to stifle the giggle.

She traces the card for a moment before slipping it into her pocket, turning towards Martha, want of knowledge bubbling under her skin.

"How did you know?" She asks, "When we played poker that very first time? How did you know?"

Martha winks, smiling wide and leaning in to kiss her cheek, her words warm against her skin, "How else, my dear. He let you _win!_"


	7. Small

"_**Maybe we should kiss a little."**_

* * *

**June 2016**

Kate wakes to the soft rustle of bedclothes and the padding of large, undainty feet on the floor. Her eyelids flutter but she stays perfectly still, her back to the man and emanation of sound, hoping she can feign sleep a little while longer.

"Bah!"

She startles, but not enough to appear awake though she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the smile in check. Someone's awake early and like her - she thinks proudly - eager to start the day.

"Shhhhh."

She grins further into the pillows, her expression hidden by the fact she pretty much fell asleep on her face last night, passing out almost instantly the moment she was done with him.

"BAH!"

"Shhh." Kate can hear the smile in Castle's voice as he hushes their son. The image of his strong arms and large hands cradling the boy to his chest so clear in her mind that she doesn't even have to open her eyes to see. But god, does she want to.

Somehow Kate finds it in herself to resist, just a little longer, to let whatever is about to occur play out. She's spent years learning that timing is everything and the best things in the world are worth waiting for. Especially when it comes to Castle.

"Baaaha!"

"Shhh. Mommy's sleeping. Now is not the time to start entering rooms like your grandmother."

She doesn't laugh but she wants to. Her fingers clench underneath her head, holding on tight and waiting. The feeling in her chest this fiercely protective and unbelievably proud thing that seems so animalistic as it roams around and circles her heart.

Pride in what they have, what they are together. Her family.

The little boy does something that clearly delights him because he lets out a squeal - an angelic siren call of mischief - just as Castle yelps, "Ow! God, those Beckett genes kick in early."

He must have his little fists tight around Castle's ears again, he's been fascinated with them, standing on his father's strong thighs and bouncing, grabbing for the nearest source of stability.

Usually she soothes his pouting face with her own soft caress, telling their little boy to _be nice to daddy_, whispering in his ear that she will be too, _later_.

She hears her husband yelp again, stifling laughter with a slow inhale and he shushes both himself and the baby, muttering under his breath all the while and Kate can hear their son mimicking him. Chattering away in a steady stream of nonsense and she won't call it mocking, not yet, he's too little and cute and able to get away with it, but another wave of pride washes through her and every ounce of her strength is focused on staying deadly still and _waiting_.

Kate feels the bed dip when they settle at her back, Castle's legs skimming her thighs when he scooches up and tries to balance their wriggly kid and himself without waking her.

Kate knows he's gonna find it hard, since the boy started crawling he's a complete worm. Arms and legs and that lithe little torso instantly made of water as he slips through your grasp to pool on the floor and make a baby break for it.

Castle jostles her, shoves, pokes and huffs enough that she wonders if he already knows she's awake, or if he just wants her that way, but Kate remains frozen, her chest a steady and rhythmic rise and fall that gives away nothing.

She feels the bed bounce and hears an ooff of sound escape Castle's chest.

"Yeah, you jump up and down buddy, but if you want a little sister let's not jump on _that_ again, okay?"

"Bah!"

"Good boy." He chuckles and she's so in love with the way he talks to their child. No baby blah blah or gobbledygook, just his soft voice and an adult ramble. He carries on a conversation as if any second their son will pipe up and tell him the most amazing things. She can't wait until he does.

"Mommy's tired, huh?" She hears Castle comment, his words jerky as the boy leaps again. Her husband whispers to the boy quietly and the lowering of his tone slowly brings the baby's leaping to a stop, a conspiracy forming at her back.

"It's a shame Mommy's asleep because if she _was_ awake we could show her what we've been working on."

"Abah."

"Exactly, but I'll let you in on a little secret, mommy's faking, you can tell because her cheeks are lifting, look."

Kate can't help but smile wide, grinning as she slowly falls onto her back, eyes still closed.

"Maaumu."

"Mmhmmm, exactly and that's where you should kiss her, right on the curve of her cheek, you know why?"

"Umamama."

"Because that is the sweetest part, the softest part of mommy's smile." Castle's fingers brush through her hair and she rolls as close as she can get, her eyes opening slowly to look up at her boys. "That's where we should kiss to let mommy know we love _her_ the _most_."

Kate smiles and pushes her hair back from her face, stroking a hand up Castle's arm to brush her thumb across the sock-less foot of her little boy. Tiny fat toes squidgy under her fingertips.

"Blow mommy a kiss." Castle whispers proudly, dropping his eyes to his wife with a smile, and the little boy lifts his hand to his face as Kate inhales in surprise, wondering _when_ he learnt to blow kisses. She catches Castle's eye but he only nods her back towards their son, smiling in anticipation as the little guy captures their attention.

He makes a smacking, sucking sound against the palm covering his mouth and "Mmmmmaaaaaaaaahhhs" loudly, grinning as his chubby little hand dances away from his face and he looks to his father.

"Good job, buddy."

Kate smiles widely, sitting up and taking the little boy from his father's hands and she laughs, delighted when he reaches for her face, lips popping apart like a fish as he gets closer.

He giggles every time she laughs, and he does it again, delighting in the happy sounds that emanate from his mother when his toothless grin collides with her skin.

She catches at his little body, squishes her fingers into his sides so he squirms, and pulls him down with her onto the bed, letting herself fall backwards as she holds the wiggling infant above her head.

He comes for her again, gummy and aiming not quite proper kisses at her face, wet and slobbery when she nuzzles into his neck, and she can't help but laugh louder and tease, "You kiss just like daddy."

"Not exactly like daddy." Castle growls and she shivers, goosebumps racing over her flesh as he tips into her and the three of them tumble lower in the bed. Castle claims her lips, diving in quickly, hotly and feeding from her mouth with a delicious laziness, just to prove a point.

Right up until their son thumps him on the head and squeals in delight as they pop apart laughing at his antics.


	8. Long

_"**I vow to kiss away your troubles."**_

* * *

**September 2014**

"_You may now kiss the -"_

She doesn't hear the rest. Doesn't need the words or the affirmation or the command from a stranger that she can kiss Castle. The world becomes this great big drowned-out and silenced thing that holds no allure to her in the sight of her husband.

_Husband._

Her heart shatters or explodes and heat radiates out through her limbs, fireworks under her skin at the thought of it, married to Castle. He's her husband. It's surreal, it's mind blowing and amazing.

It's true, at last!

The word _bride_ probably gets spoken, there may be catcalls and cheers and an entire universe's worth of applause as the people that love them most witness them come together as man and wife. They might even breathe a collective sigh of relief. A rumble of _thank god, finally_ may whip its way around their small congregation, tears, sobs and laughter lighting the way, but she doesn't hear any of it.

Her eyes are full of him and her ears are thundering with the beat of her heart, the quiet intensity of each thud and shudder seems to call his name, call him to her.

At the word _You_ Castle's coming for her, closing the half-step distance between them, hands raised and arms wide, _you, just you_ written over his face and in his smile, in the warm scrunch of happiness that mostly hides the soft, joyful blue of his eyes in the summer sun.

Her breath catches, her _husband_, swooping in to kiss her and _may now_ is muffled by the heat and soft caress of his fingers on her face as he cradles her jaw, angles her chin and brushes the edge of his nose against hers.

A mutual sigh of _now, yes please, now_, flows between them as his lips hover above hers and in the split second before the next word is spoken their eyes lock. Tight and unbreakable and forever.

_Always._

They don't need to be told what comes next, it's second nature, it's simple and easy. It's fate.

_Kiss_ becomes an existence.

In that lone four lettered, single syllabled word a life together is created, owned and acknowledged, expressed, desired and cherished. They've been through so much and yet here they are, curled around each other, savoring each other, still at war in the battle that rages between their clashing lips, but in sync, always in sync.

A future takes root, in that one meager word, first anniversaries and fiftieths, Christmases and christenings, birthdays and births and holding hands in the park. Chasing down suspects and toddlers and crazy pets that haven't even been born yet and all of it stems from that one simple word.

_Kiss_.

And they do.

Suddenly, all knowing and all consuming, the endless possibilities unwind in the touching of their lips, hearts and minds. Two souls coming together in celebration and damn him, he's made her sappy. He's made her believe in magic and forever and the possibility of so many things she cannot put them into words.

Her husband, claiming her lips and her heart and _her_ forever with every single touch and each step they have taken together.

_Kiss._

Her lips part on the _K_ and she inhales him, allows Castle to flood her senses, float through her bloodstream and send devilish delight bursting out into her body as the familiar taste and smell of him pours inside and fills her up.

Their tongues meet on the _I._ A simple greeting, a moment in time and he touches at all aspects of her life, her past, present and future, every battle lost and triumph earned, every fire they put out and every dramatic event they started, everything he missed before they met and all the things she would never been without him coming to life.

Everything he helped her become exists in that kiss.

Her fingers tighten as they tumble through the first _S_. Silence and slumber and simplicity in the way he smooths over her skin and makes her feel like she's come home. Finally. Forever. And it's familiar and lovely and _him_.

Castle.

She gives up his name to the silence of their kiss, another vow she swears, another promise she will never break.

Castle.

Her safe place, her port in the storm, her anchor, her partner, her knight in shining armour and her harshest critic. The man who knows her better than any other, the ear into which her secrets are whispered and the place she lays her heart and body to rest at the end of every day.

_Her_ Castle. _Her_ husband.

They cling and breathe as one, soft sighs into her mouth like a lifeline, the second _S_ surrounds them both and she rises in his embrace to give every ounce of it back. Her arms around his neck and holding tight, _kiss_ is what they do.

Kiss, kiss. Kiss and kiss again.

Today she may be the bride who _should_ be kissed, sweet and shy and blushing in the innocence of that first meeting of lips, but right now - and everyday here after - she's also his _wife_, fierce, determined.

She's his wife and his shield, the soft voice of conscience and logic that he will hear echo in the deepest reaches of his mind from here on and ever after. She kisses him as his bride and his wife and under all of that as the woman he first knew.

She kisses him and reminds him, yes, under everything, she's still Kate Beckett, challenging, frustrating.

Maddening.

Teasing and cheeky, lustful and giddy.

She doesn't let him forget it.

In the sweep of her tongue and the way she hooks her foot behind his calf to bring him in tight against her. She may well be Kate Castle - and how odd that sounds and how right and lovely - but she's still Kate Beckett and he's still the writer - _her_ writer - the one who wormed his way inside her heart, only to set up camp and bring her to life.

Married or engaged, they are who they always were, and together they become so much more.

She grips him tighter and moans deeply, hoping he feels exactly what he does to her - heat and lightning, thunder and electricity, all - nipping at his mouth and the taste of morning sunlight on their lips.

_Husband_.

The flower in his lapel is crushed under her near savage, fevered fingers, dragging him closer as she clings and climbs and curls herself into him, the sweet scent is intoxicating as it breaks around them and her lashes flutter in the breeze.

Still they kiss.

They kiss knowing everyday will start and end this way, in each others arms. They kiss to show the world they belong to each other and his hand slips from her face, curves to her neck and pulls her closer, the heated span of his palm on her back aligning them perfectly.

Castle sighs her name into her mouth, a tender, awed _Kate_ so sweet that her heart clenches at the sound. Tracing her lips with his own as if memorizing her in the moment, they gift each other with the knowledge that they will never forget this kiss, not one single second of it, not ever.

They kiss, for themselves and the commitment they have made, for the words that bubbled up inside them and spilled out, drowning out the vows they had prepared as the things they _wanted_ to say suddenly paled in comparison to the things they just _had_ to express.

They kiss for the pleas and promises and the laughter, for the joy she can feel burning under the skin, for the need to tell him how much she loves him, how wonderfully and perfectly and _annoyingly for the better_ he has changed her life.

Kate smooths her fingertips over his face and presses her promises into the warmth of his skin and she hears the words Castle spoke just for her on gentle loop in her head.

And still they kiss, hearts frantic and pounding and screaming at each other in the silence. _I love you, just you. No one but you._

And still they kiss.

Everything anyone needs to know about them was spoken aloud, in his deep and thoughtful tone, in his quips and laughter and in the seriousness of the way he loves her.

Forever.

Their story was written and rewritten and magnified in the shy quake of her own voice as she lifted it loud enough for everyone to hear, in the way she smiled and swallowed around words so full of truth that they ached as she set them free.

And now in celebration the essence of who they are flows freely and unknowable to any other soul, between them as they kiss, kiss and kiss again, unburdened by hardship and what went before.

All that matters is the here and now.

This day.

This kiss.

This moment between them.

And still it goes on. On and on until the need for air tugs her eyes open and she's looking at him, her eyes blurred with tears.

Her husband, so beautiful.

On and on and it's hot and slow and _long_ and they don't want to pull apart - panting - hands holding tight and bodies wrapped up together, but they do, foreheads dropping to meet as they sigh past lips that glisten just as brightly as their eyes.

They're married. And she laughs, out of nowhere, utter delight catching her by surprise, catching _him_ by surprise with the wideness of her smile, the lightness in her body as she holds on tight, her fingers touching his face until he laughs with her and it all becomes real.

No longer a fairy tale or a dream, or a near miss, but them. Just them.

Married - their lips meet again, making a million silent vows each time they touch - kissing for the longest time in the summer sun.


End file.
